quillrosetellsstories
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Latest Posts by quillrosetellsstories
Watching old AJR concert is my secret to writing
Excerpt from Otherworld: Volume One
Cluck. Jo looked down, one foot raised. Underneath sat an orange and white chicken. It tilted its head at Jo’s foot, blinked beady black eyes, and clucked again.
“Is that-”
“Roast!” A deep voice called. Surprisingly, the chicken answered. It flapped its wings as it went running down the path. The chicken named Roast squeezed between two fence posts to dutifully return to its owner.
“Sorry, we’re just passing through,” Jo called to him.
He put his hands to his pointed phyrra ears and yelled, “What?”
Jo walked closer. “We’re just passing!”
“Oh, well welcome. I’m Kho, this is Roast.” Taller than most phyrra, Kho was only a couple inches shorter than herself. He had sandy chin length hair, honey colored skin, and dark freckles dotting his face. A wispy beard decorated his chin and jaw. His clothes were dirty and patched over, and his hands were closed around a pitchfork that he set to the side to scoop up Roast. Kho lifted the chicken’s wing gently, waving it up and down.
“Hm,” Maven grunted over Jo’s shoulder. “Never seen that before.”
“Her brother Toast should be around here somewhere.” Kho looked around the yard, shading his eyes against the sun.
“Toast,” Lola echoed over Jo’s shoulder.
Cluck.
A brown and black chicken looked up at Lola from behind her. Toast drew back his head and pecked at Lola’s ankles with all his might. When she shrieked, Jo had to cover her mouth to avoid laughing. Not everyone else on the team had the same courtesy. Kho looked between them. “Where are you all… from?”
“We’re… well…” Jo trailed off, unsure how much to share with this random farmer.
“We’re headed from Lekonis,” said Lola carefully, “towards Ipbo. We hear they’re debuting airboats for the holiday.”
Kho looked between Glade sweeping their tail behind them to ward off attacks from Toast, and Iila, who was trying on her most winning, and most terrifying, grin. “Alright then.”
The sun beat hot on the farm. Animals were sheltering under woven awnings and lapping at water gratefully. Jo thought about her own empty canister. “Would you by chance have water for some friendly passersby?”
Kho looked apprehensively at the weapons at their belts and slung across their backs. He shrugged and waved them forward. “Thought you wouldn’t ask.” He didn’t sound happy; in fact, Kho’s voice was trembling.
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quill's secret to writing: old Dance Moms reruns
How-to Pick-Up Chicks
If you asked Stewart, the best time to pick up a woman is on the beach at night when she’s with her family. He would say, “Make sure to grab her attention as she walks by, preferably with a CD of your latest hit single, recorded in your mother’s basement.” I previously would have said, as someone who is also into women, this is not the way. But the methods in which Stewart uses to pick up women is unique to those like him, and must be studied. He would then continue on to let you know that the CD he’s just forcibly pressed into your hands does, in fact, cost. The women he is about to take home as his will be stunned by his beauty (Once again, it’s pitch black at night by the ocean) and fork over the 30 bucks he asks for.
When he tries this maneuver, the best thing to do is deflect with uncomfortable laughter. Laugh like he’s your weird, and technically not related -as he tells you every family gathering-, uncle who sits a little too close at family gatherings. Then, break out the excuses. Lucky for me, I am always on the verge of needing to pee. This excuse is good if you’re attempting to not be followed. Why would he follow you, you may ask?
Don’t. Don’t ask. It is imprudent to try to discover what Stewart’s might do. It ruins their good vibes and swanky demeanor. And besides, men make you feel safe, right? No need to cover this topic any further.
He may, if you’re lucky, follow you anyways and ‘stand guard’ outside the porta-potty. Thankfully he’s very strong, and you’re not worried at all, and you haven’t lost track of your family, and Stewart has perfectly gentlemanly motives. Turns out he only wanted to make sure he got your social media username. Now, here’s where things get tricky, so pay attention to the instructions. Although you may think that the numerous pictures you have posted of your wife (holding her hand, kissing her, and getting married to her) would certainly catch Stewart’s attention, it may not. Or perhaps it does interest him greatly, and you’ve made a critical mistake. Either way, he’ll add you and scroll through them as you walk back to your family, and of course he’ll ask how old you are. The age difference doesn’t matter to Stewart, for he’ll say his trademark “Cool, cool,” even after you’ve essentially told him he’s 20 years older than you.
At this point, I know exactly what you’re thinking: “Wow. This guy has completely won me over. I wish to be taken home and boned right now.” Wait just a moment, or you’ll miss the best part. To Stewart, this has been a successful attempt at picking up chicks, and he may go in for one final killer move, which I would call the Drive-By.
Should you have taken his trash mixtape, maybe even paid him for it, and talked with him for a couple minutes now, Stewart will certainly be head-over-heels for you. It’s easy now for him to leave and magically find you later. It’s wonderful how he will be able to pick you out in a crowd, and bounce over to make sure he’s seen again, without actually talking to you. What does he expect to happen after this Drive-By? Some have speculated that Stewart may be trying to put on a show of his attributes, in the way that a bird might show his brightly colored feathers.
Science is amazing!
If only someone had told me these rules when I started picking up chicks. The dance Stewart does around the beach at night is a replica of ones at shopping malls, grocery stores, concerts, and more. Seeing this everywhere has made me an expert. Luckily, I now have the ability to put this plan into play against women. Did I say against? I meant for women. Always I had thought that Stewart’s dance only didn’t work because I didn’t like penis. Now, I give the plans for this dance to you to entice and entrap the women of your dreams!
Forever Writing,
quill rose
Teaching in 2020
Second grade was hard enough
The seconds turn into hours
Screens turn to staff as
Students turn their screens on and off
Teaching students slipping out of their chairs at home
Teaches us what we thought we already learned
Too raw is the view into the houses of inner-city youth
Exposed to their reality; my past too.
When the day is over, we rub our burning eyes
We say it is easy when we are pioneers
Fighting our exhaustion and creeping mental instability
Has us fighting our love for our career.
my page has become a seagull fanpage
Fed seagulls on the Cali beaches with my youngest sister.
Short Fiction- Untitled
In the backyard sat a camper van, spacious enough to fit a family of eight, a trampoline, and a large above-ground pool. Their house was one of those rich, suburban houses, with a white mother and father and their three children- two boys and a girl. Seven bedrooms, three bathrooms, a decked-out kitchen perfect for hosting holidays, and a special living room for hosting Bible Study on Wednesday nights. Toys piled up and the latest video games were always around. It was a house my family dreamed of living in, and we did live in it. Downstairs sat an uninhabited basement, fully finished with a small kitchen and living space, and three of the house’s bedrooms. This was where my family of seven moved. The best part about the house wasn’t the pool and it certainly wasn’t the trampoline; it was that we were not homeless for the five months that family allowed our stay.
your warm
kiss
planting on
my lips
waking me
delicately
like the
raindrops
tattering
on the windowpane
-v.o
River Flows in You
Bare feet slip through mossy banks
On the other side of a bubbling creek, filled with watercress,
Is a deep path
Leading to a breathtaking waterfall.
“This way,” a teacher says,
Shoving a fistful of fresh-plucked watercress into his mouth.
Students and staff follow, in order of their eagerness
The sharp snap of the plant dances on every tongue.
Hidden and rocky though the path may be,
Treasures await the fresh-faced explorers
A waterfall spills into the creek, misting the group,
As they all file into a hidden cavern behind the rushing waters.
Teachers don’t lecture the students as they fill their cupped palms and stick their little feet in,
Most never having felt such overwhelming, refreshing freedom in their short lives
Staff watches as happiness spreads across usually bleak faces,
Knowing they’re creating core memories for themselves and their students.
When I mutter, “I wish I was a waterfall, strong and powerful and cool,”
It is Mr. A who turns to me to teach the most valuable of all lessons this day
He never lies, and with the intelligence of a middle-aged man from the middle-east, replies:
“But you are, that energy flows through you, too.”
Forever Writing,
quill rose
Blow negative thoughts every day, to make room for all the beautiful things that life gives you every day.
